Los Angeles
The silence in the living room was unbearable.
It pressed in on Chris from all sides, thick and heavy, like the air before a storm. He sat stiffly on the couch, knees bouncing despite his best effort to stay still. Bobby was beside him, close enough that Chris could feel the cold radiating off him, though Bobby clearly wasn't trying to freeze anything. Rogue sat on Chris's other side, hands folded tightly in her lap, eyes flicking between Chris and Sarah with quiet concern.
Across the room, Logan leaned against the wall, one boot braced behind him, a cigar smoldering between his fingers. He hadn't said a word since they'd arrived. He didn't need to. His presence alone felt like pressure.
Charles sat a few feet away in his wheelchair, hands folded calmly, posture relaxed almost too relaxed given the circumstances.
Sarah was not relaxed.
She paced back and forth across the living room, heels clicking sharply against the floor. Her eyes kept drifting to the cracked wall, the spiderweb fractures crawling up toward the ceiling. Every time she saw them, her jaw tightened.
"This," she said finally, stopping and pointing at the damage, "is my house."
No one interrupted her.
"I leave for one shift," Sarah continued, voice shaking with anger and fear, "and I come home to police tape, a crater in the street, and my living room looking like it lost a fight with an earthquake."
Chris winced. "To be fair….."
Sarah spun on him. "Don't."
He immediately held up his hands. "Okay. Not fair. Bad timing. Universe hates us. Got it."
Bobby shot him a sideways look that clearly said now is not the time. Rogue gently nudged his knee with hers, a silent warning.
Sarah turned back toward Charles, her eyes sharp. "You," she said. "You're the one in charge."
Charles inclined his head slightly. "I am Charles Xavier."
"And you knew," Sarah said. "You knew what he was."
Chris tensed at the word what.
"I suspected," Charles replied evenly. "When his abilities manifested tonight, it confirmed it."
Sarah laughed once but it was humorless. "So my son is a mutant."
Chris tried to shrug, failed. "When you say it like that, it sounds like I joined a club."
Sarah shot him a look. "Christopher Howard Walker."
He sank back into the couch. "Sorry. Defense mechanism."
Charles watched the exchange carefully. "Mrs. Walker," he said gently, "Chris is not dangerous because he is a mutant. He is dangerous because he is untrained."
"That is not comforting," Sarah snapped. "He shook the ground. Our house almost collapsed."
Chris stared at his hands. The memory of the air cracking, the shockwave and his stomach twisted. "I didn't mean to," he muttered. "I just… got mad."
Sarah's expression softened for half a second then hardened again. "That's what scares me."
The room fell quiet again.
Charles leaned forward slightly. "That is why I'm here. I run a school. A place for young mutants to learn control, discipline, and how to live safely in a world that doesn't always understand them."
"A school," Sarah repeated. "With people like him?" She glanced toward Logan.
Logan took the cigar from his mouth. "Hey," he said gruffly. "I'm very educational."
Bobby snorted before he could stop himself.
Sarah didn't smile. "You fight," she said. "All of you."
"We protect," Rogue said softly.
"And what happens when he loses control again?" Sarah demanded. "What happens when he hurts someone?"
Chris opened his mouth, then closed it. His leg bounced faster.
Charles didn't hesitate. "Then that is on me."
Sarah turned fully toward him. "I want guarantees."
Charles met her gaze, calm and unwavering. "I can promise you that he will not be alone. That he will be trained. That he will be surrounded by people who understand what he's going through."
"That's not a guarantee," Sarah said. "That's hope."
Logan pushed off the wall.
The room seemed to tense as he straightened, rolling his shoulders once. He walked forward slowly, stopping a few feet from Sarah.
"You want a guarantee?" he said.
Sarah crossed her arms. "I want to know my son can protect himself."
Logan glanced at Chris.
Chris immediately went stiff. "I would like to formally object to being volunteered for whatever this is."
Bobby gave him a pitying look. Rogue winced.
Logan ignored them. "I'll train him."
Sarah blinked. "You?"
"I'll personally make sure he knows how to fight," Logan continued. "How to stay standing when things go sideways. How to control that power instead of letting it control him."
Chris's eyes widened. "Whoa hold on, we did not discuss….."
"You'll hate it," Logan added bluntly. "You'll bleed. You'll get knocked on your ass more times than you can count."
Bobby leaned closer to Chris and whispered, "He's underselling it."
Rogue murmured, "Sugar, it's… a lot."
Chris swallowed hard, forcing a crooked grin. "Cool. Love that for me."
Logan looked back at Sarah. "But when he's done," he said, voice low and serious, "no one's gonna corner him again."
Sarah studied Logan's face for a long moment and saw the conviction.
"And you'll protect him?" she asked quietly.
Logan nodded once. "With my life."
The room was silent.
Chris looked at his mom, panic buzzing under his skin. He tried to joke it away. "Hey, worst case scenario, I come back ripped and emotionally scarred."
Sarah finally broke.
She walked over to Chris and knelt in front of him, hands gripping his knees. "You scared me," she whispered. "Do you know that?"
His throat tightened. "Yeah," he said softly. Then, louder, trying to cover it, "In my defense, I scared myself too."
She pulled him into a tight hug. Chris froze for half a second then hugged her back.
When she pulled away, her eyes were wet but resolved.
She stood and faced Charles. "If he goes," she said, "I want updates. I want to know where he is. And if anything happens to him….."
"You will be informed immediately," Charles promised.
Sarah exhaled slowly.
"…Okay," she said.
Chris blinked. "Wait, really?"
She turned to him. "You are not blowing up my house again."
He managed a weak smile. "No promises on the ground. But I'll try."
Timeskip
The first thing Trevor felt was pain.
It crawled through his body in slow, pulsing waves, dull and relentless, like his bones were humming with it. His mouth was dry. His head throbbed. Somewhere nearby, a machine beeped steadily, its rhythm annoyingly calm.
Trevor groaned.
His eyelids fluttered, heavy as lead, before finally dragging themselves open. Harsh white light stabbed into his eyes, and he hissed, turning his head slightly away. The ceiling above him was unfamiliar but memories came rushing back in pieces.
Chris Walker's face.
That smug mouth.
The alley. The pressure in the air.
The sound like the world cracking.
Trevor's jaw tightened.
He tried to move and immediately regretted it. Pain flared through his chest and limbs, sharp enough to make him gasp. He looked down at himself and felt a fresh surge of rage. His torso and legs were wrapped in thick white casts. Tubes snaked from his arms. Wires dotted his chest, leading to the heart monitor beside him.
"Unbelievable…" he muttered hoarsely.
He remembered being strong. Remembered chasing Chris, cornering him. Remembered the look of fear that should have stayed on that freak's face.
Instead, the ground had exploded.
Trevor's fingers curled as much as the cast would allow.
Anger boiled in his chest. His breathing quickened, each inhale sharp and furious. His thoughts spiraled, replaying the moment over and over, twisting it into something unbearable.
"He did this to me." Trevor thought to himself.
The beeping machine beside him began to speed up.
Trevor didn't notice. What he did notice was the heat.
At first, he thought it was the blankets. Then the air itself felt thicker, warmer, like the room was slowly being sealed shut. Sweat prickled along his forehead. His breath came faster.
"What the hell…?" he growled.
The smell hit him next and it was burning fabric.
Trevor's eyes snapped down to his right hand.
The cast around it was darkening no smoking. Thin wisps of gray curled into the air as the plaster began to crack. A deep red glow pulsed beneath the surface, like embers under ash.
Trevor sucked in a sharp breath and the cast split open.
Chunks fell away onto the bed, crumbling into powder before they even landed. His skin beneath wasn't burned but it was glowing, veins lit like molten metal beneath the surface. His fingers flexed, and the glow intensified, heat rippling off his hand in visible waves.
The skin began to change.
Red deepened to orange. His hand seemed to soften, edges blurring, flesh melting and reshaping until it looked less like skin and more like flowing magma. Drops of molten heat fell onto the sheets, burning clean holes straight through them.
Trevor stared, stunned.
Then he laughed.
It started low, rough, pulling itself out of his chest before growing louder. The sound echoed unnaturally in the small room, mixing with the frantic beeping of the machines.
"Well…" he said, voice steady now, almost pleased.
He clenched his magma-formed hand, feeling power surge through him.
A slow smirk spread across his face.
"Guess you didn't finish the job, Walker."
The room continued to heat, walls creaking softly as the temperature climbed.
Trevor's eyes burned with hatred.
"You're dead," he whispered.
Timeskip
X-Mansion
The X-Jet touched down with a low mechanical hum, metal settling into place as the engines powered down. The ramp hissed open, and cool underground air rushed in.
Chris stepped out last.
He had a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie like he might bolt if he took them out. His eyes flicked around the massive underground hangar, taking in the sleek black jet, the reinforced walls, the towering ceiling lined with lights.
"…Okay," he muttered. "Either this is a school or the world's most subtle supervillain lair."
Logan snorted from behind him.
Charles rolled forward smoothly in his wheelchair, calm as ever. "I assure you, Chris, no supervillain lairs. We prefer transparency."
Chris glanced at the jet again. "You literally landed a stealth aircraft under a house."
Charles smiled. "Selective transparency."
That earned a reluctant huff of laughter from Chris as he followed them forward. His footsteps echoed, and for the first time since everything had gone sideways in Los Angeles, the tight knot in his chest loosened just a little.
They passed through thick metal doors that slid open soundlessly, revealing an elevator already waiting. As it rose, Chris leaned back against the wall, eyes darting.
"So," he said casually, a little too casually, "hypothetically speaking… if someone accidentally caused seismic activity during gym class, what's the policy? Detention? Expulsion? Military tribunal?"
"Try not to cause seismic activity during gym class," Logan said.
"Helpful."
The doors opened onto the mansion proper.
Chris blinked.
Sunlight streamed through tall windows. Polished wood floors stretched down long hallways lined with doors, artwork, and framed photographs with students laughing, training, living.
"Welcome to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters," Charles said.
Chris swallowed. "You guys really went all-in on the name."
They started walking or rolling down the hall.
"This floor contains classrooms and dormitories," Charles explained. "Students your age live here, learn here. You'll attend regular academic courses alongside training to better understand and control your abilities."
Chris raised an eyebrow. "You're telling me I blew up a parking lot and my punishment is homework."
"Yes."
"…I don't trust it."
They rounded a corner and nearly collided with a girl phasing halfway through a wall.
"Whoa!" Chris yelped, stumbling back.
The girl stepped fully into the hallway, solidifying with a grin. "Sorry! Still working on corners."
She stuck out a hand. "Kitty Pryde."
Chris stared at her hand for a second, then shook it. "Chris Walker. Professional problem magnet."
Kitty laughed. "You'll fit right in."
A flash of yellow zipped past them, nearly knocking Chris's duffel bag off his shoulder.
"Jubilee!" Kitty called.
The girl skidded to a stop, sparks snapping playfully from her fingertips. "What? I didn't hit him."
Jubilee leaned in, studying Chris. "New guy?"
Chris lifted his bag slightly. "Is it that obvious?"
"Yeah," she said. "You've got the I accidentally joined a superhero boarding school face."
Before Chris could respond, the lights dimmed slightly.
A faint blue glow appeared near the ceiling.
Someone teleported in upside-down, tail flicking as he landed lightly on his feet.
"Guten Tag," Nightcrawler said cheerfully. "You must be our new student."
Chris stared then nodded once. "Okay. Cool. Blue demon guy. That's fine. I'm fine."
Nightcrawler smiled warmly. "You will find we are quite normal here."
Chris looked at the tail.
"…We have very different definitions of normal."
A portal sliced open nearby, glowing purple.
A girl with blond hair and a massive sword resting on her shoulder stepped through, eyes sharp and assessing.
"Magik," she said flatly.
Chris gave her a two-finger salute. "Chris. I feel like I should not annoy you."
"That would be wise," she replied.
"See? I'm learning already."
Bobby skated up on a trail of ice, grinning. "Told you he'd survive introductions."
Colossus followed behind him, giving Chris a gentle nod. "It is good to see you again, my friend."
Chris blinked up at him. "You guys just keep getting taller."
They moved on, the hallway growing busier. Students passed talking, laughing and existing without fear.
Chris noticed his shoulders slowly unclenching.
Then Charles turned into a classroom wing.
"And these are our instructors."
The door opened to reveal a large blue-furred man adjusting a microscope.
"Ah!" Beast said brightly. "You must be our newest arrival."
He shook Chris's hand enthusiastically. "Dr. Hank McCoy. Biology, physics, literature, and occasional moral philosophy."
Chris blinked. "You look like if a lion majored in science."
Beast beamed. "Highest compliment I've received all week."
A sudden chill brushed Chris's mind.
A blonde woman stood nearby, arms crossed, eyes sharp and knowing.
"Emma Frost," she said coolly. "Try not to think too loudly."
Chris winced. "That's gonna be a problem."
She smirked.
Across the room, a man with a visor adjusted it slightly. "Scott Summers," Cyclops said. "I handle combat training."
Chris eyed the visor. "Let me guess. Laser eyes."
"Yes."
"…That checks out."
Jean Grey smiled warmly from beside him. "Welcome, Chris."
Her presence was calm and steady in a way that made his head feel quieter. He hadn't realized how loud it usually was until now.
A winged man walks in.
"Angel," he said. "If you need help finding your footing here literally or metaphorically I've got you."
Chris looked at the wings, then back at Angel. "Do doors hate you, or have you adapted?"
Angel laughed.
A voice drawled from the doorway. "Careful, chérie. He bites."
A man leaned against the frame, cards flicking between his fingers, eyes glowing faintly red.
"Gambit," he said. "I teach… creative problem-solving."
Chris grinned despite himself. "You're my favorite so far."
Logan scoffed. "Don't encourage him."
Timekskip
Chris's room was… nicer than expected.
That was the first thought that crossed his mind as he stood in the doorway, duffel bag still slung over his shoulder, taking it all in. A neatly made bed sat against one wall, dark blue comforter pulled tight. A desk by the window overlooked the sprawling green grounds outside, sunlight spilling in like it actually wanted to be there. Bookshelves lined the opposite wall empty for now and a corkboard waited patiently for memories that didn't exist yet.
"This will be your room," Charles said gently from behind him. "You're free to make it your own."
Chris stepped inside slowly, half-expecting the floor to crack under his feet. It didn't. The room stayed still, solid, reassuringly normal.
"Wow," he muttered. "So no bars on the windows. That's new."
Charles smiled knowingly. "You are not a prisoner here, Chris."
Chris shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. "Yeah. I know. Just… force of habit."
Charles rolled a little farther into the room, stopping near the desk. "If I may offer one piece of advice before I leave you to settle in."
Chris leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Hit me."
"You protect yourself with distance," Charles said calmly. "With sarcasm. With pushing people away before they can do the same to you."
Chris opened his mouth then stopped.
"…You're very good at this mind-reading thing," he said instead.
"I didn't need my powers to see that," Charles replied softly. "This place only works when people allow themselves to be seen. You don't have to trust everyone. But I hope, in time, you'll trust someone."
Chris looked away, jaw tightening. "No promises."
Charles nodded, accepting that for what it was. "Dinner is served in the main hall when you're ready. Try not to skip meals."
"Can't make any promises there either."
With that, Charles turned and left, the door closing quietly behind him.
Chris stood there for a moment longer, then finally dropped his duffel bag onto the bed. It landed with a heavy thump, the sound oddly comforting. He started unpacking and folding clothes, shoving socks into drawers, lining up a few battered books on the shelf like they were old friends.
He paused once, hands resting on the edge of the desk.
Control, he thought.
He'd said the word so easily earlier. Like it was something you could just decide to have. Like flipping a switch.
His fingers curled unconsciously and the room didn't shake and that helped.
After a while, his stomach growled loud enough to break his spiral.
"Okay," he muttered. "Food before existential dread."
He stepped out into the hallway, following what he thought were signs pointing toward the kitchens. The mansion was quieter now, afternoon settling in, the distant sound of laughter echoing from somewhere below.
As he walked, his thoughts crept back in.
What if I lose control again?
What if I hurt someone?
What if they realize I don't belong here?
He wasn't looking where he was going and the collision was sudden.
"Oof!"
Chris stumbled forward, tripping over his own feet, and went down hard landing squarely on top of someone else.
For half a second, everything froze.
Then Chris opened his eyes and found himself staring straight into fierce green ones and they were narrowed, blazing with pure, unfiltered fury.
"Oh," he breathed before his brain caught up. "Beautiful."
The girl shoved him off with surprising strength.
Chris hit the floor on his side, sliding a few inches across the polished wood. He barely had time to react before she was on her feet, glaring down at him like she was deciding where to bury the body.
"Watch where you're going, asshole," she growled.
Chris blinked up at her.
She was shorter than him, black hair framing her face in sharp, uneven lines. Every inch of her radiated tension like she is very dangerous.
He pushed himself up onto one elbow, wincing. "In my defense, the hallway jumped me first."
Her eyes narrowed further.
"That wasn't an apology."
Chris smirked, reflex kicking in. "I did open with a compliment."
With a sharp snikt, two metal claws slid out from each of her hands. The sound was unmistakable and Chris's breath was caught.
"…Okay," he said slowly, raising his hands. "That feels like an escalation."
She lunged.
A blur of motion cut between them. Logan's hand clamped around her wrist mid-swing, claws stopping inches from Chris's face.
"That's enough," Logan said firmly.
She snarled, yanking against his grip. "He ran into me."
"And you were about to turn him into ground beef."
They glared at each other, something raw and intense passing between them more than anger and more than authority.
Finally, she ripped her arm free, retracting her claws with another sharp sound.
She shot Chris one last venomous look. "Watch your mouth."
Then she stormed down the hall, boots striking the floor hard with every step.
The silence afterward felt loud.
Logan turned to Chris, eyes assessing. "You okay?"
Chris nodded slowly. "Yeah. I think I just met my death in human form."
Logan snorted and offered him a hand. Chris took it, letting himself be hauled to his feet.
"So," Chris said carefully. "Who was that?"
Logan's mouth twitched. "My daughter."
Chris froze.
"…Your what?"
"Laura."
Chris stared down the hall where she'd disappeared. Then back at Logan. Then back down the hall again.
"Oh," he said faintly. "Cool. Cool cool cool."
Logan crossed his arms. "You'll be spending a lot of time together. I'm training both of you."
Chris's stomach dropped.
"She'll be your sparring partner."
Chris swallowed. "I think I just reconsidered food."
Logan smirked. "Get some rest. You'll need it."
Logan walked off, leaving Chris standing there, mind racing.
He turned around, completely forgetting why he'd left his room in the first place, and went back inside. He shut the door, leaned against it, and exhaled shakily.
Green eyes, his brain supplied helpfully.
He groaned softly, dropping onto his bed and staring at the ceiling.
"…I am so screwed," he muttered.
Sleep eventually claimed him.
But even as he drifted off, those fierce green eyes burned behind his eyelids.